The truth behind my delusions…[pardon the fan-girling].

From at least 2018 to 2021, I experienced an episode of delusional disorder, a psychotic disorder on the schizophrenia spectrum. I am thankful to say that I haven’t had any delusions or hallucinations in some time now; however, I feel like I need to get these stories off of my chest, as there were some surprises after I’d snapped out of it.

This is a blog post with a soundtrack. For the full experience, click on the links. [I am not affiliated in any way with any of the sites that I link to.] ❤

The Princess

In 2020, I experienced persecutory and other delusions relating to Meghan Markle. After taking antipsychotics starting in 2021, in addition to receiving clarity that my delusions were not real, I got real memories back. Finally able to process my emotions, it turned out that I really did know Meghan.

If I remember correctly, I taught Meghan how to swivel step one evening at a swing dance at Disneyland in Anaheim, California. I was about 13, so she must have been about 17. It was Thanksgiving weekend 1999, and I was there with my swing dance team for the U.S. Open National Swing Dance Championships.

It was dark out, but well-lit. Meghan and her mother stood next to me and observed intently as I counted step, step, step, step. My friend Adam took over the instruction soon after I’d started to demonstrate.

I next saw Meghan at Jitterbug Jam, a swing dance event in California, about a year or so later. Meghan had placed above me in the Jack n’ Jill competition. After the awards were announced, I believe she said to me, “Don’t hate me!”. I responded by asking her to dance, and she accepted. I led her in a lindy hop. Her whips were on-point, and she was graceful.

After the song was over, I gave her unsolicited dancing advice, even though she was really good. When we got back to her space off of the dancefloor in the hotel conference room, her and her mother’s dinner was served, and she had to go. It would be about 10 years before I saw Meghan again.

The next time our paths crossed, I was a graduate student at the University of Chicago. It was 2008 or 2009, and the EDM show had just ended at Vision/Excalibur Nightclub in downtown Chicago. It was Kyau and Albert or Ferry Corsten or one of those. There was a long line for the coat check. We both had dudes waiting in line for us, so we were standing off to the side. The sun was starting to rise.

I was drawn to Meghan but didn’t recognize her. I believe the conversation started when I complimented her on her shoes. She was wearing a white jacket and stilettos. She in turn complimented me on my favorite GUESS dress. I asked her how she kept her legs so nice and thin, and she said she was vegan and did yoga.

Meghan confided in me that she suffered from depression and was very sad. She was feeling so badly that she started crying in the nightclub. I did my best to console her, and as I talked her up, I literally watched her face go from tears to beaming with pride and poise. I asked her for her number and she gave it to me. When her handsome date finally had his jacket, she and I hugged goodbye.

After that, I invited Meghan to join me for some club nights/EDM shows, but she would always politely decline. We lost touch when she moved to Toronto. I don’t remember exactly what she said via text, but she basically said goodbye because I was a drug user. I wasn’t a cokehead. Nevertheless, I said I understood and wished her safe travels. She replied with a smiley face.

I did not consciously recognize Meghan when her engagement to Prince Harry was announced. I was, after all, in the depths of a psychotic episode at the time. But boy, was I envious! My envy has subsided now that I recall what a genuinely kind and gentle person Meghan is.

However, it still hurts that she rejected my friendship, as I don’t have many friends. I wonder if things would have been different if we’d remembered each other from our teenage years, or if I hadn’t been a drug user.

The Rockstar

I experienced psychotic delusions relating to deadmau5 (aka Joel Zimmerman) after I could have sworn he really did point at me while I was dancing during his set at Paradiso 2018 at the Gorge Amphitheater in Washington State.

It was even during “Ghosts N Stuff“, right after “Cause everybody else knows what they’re taking tonight…”. His arm twirled around three times and then his finger pointed squarely at me, or so it appeared. I had more fun dancing to his set that night than basically ever.

What had happened was, at the end of the show, Joel came up to the front of the stage. I gave him the hand heart when he looked up in my direction. Not sure whether he’d actually pointed at me, something told me to look him up. I Googled him and BOOM: He was a newlywed.

I remember thinking about how his wife might feel about him pointing at me during his set like that, and my heart dropped to my vagina. So, despite my PLUR mentality (and my quasi-tendency to end up with the DJ) I felt ethically bound to decline whatever invitation may or may not have existed.

As the crowd slowly migrated back to the campgrounds, I ran up the hill to one of the smaller stages, per the voice in my head telling me to get there fast. I got behind stage quickly to see a friend that was there. It was dark and the venue was starting to empty. I got to meet the side stage headliner.

Just then, I saw Joel and a small group of people around him walking up to the backstage area behind the smaller stage. The timing was perfect, if I’d wanted a second chance at meeting him that night. But, he looked melancholy. I didn’t want to disturb him. I chose not to yell “Hey, Joel!” to him and I don’t think he noticed me.

The next night at Paradiso 2018, I danced to Feed Me’s set at one of the smaller stages. I was wearing a long red wig with a cute sailor costume and matching boots. I’d taken a small amount of mushrooms. I was pretty tired from the night before but managed to dance all the way through to the end.

Feed Me (aka Jon Gooch and Spor) is also one of my faves. [Back story: I met Jon and his friend Dan the night they came over to my little after party after one of his performances in 2014. I have a really cute pic with Jon from that night. A year or so after that, I believe I was GHB’d at one of his shows at a Seattle nightclub (I also had too much alcohol that night to begin with). My friend Chris peeled me off of the likely culprit and took me home. I was so fucked up that I couldn’t get out of the car until the next morning. Later that day, Jon’s friend Dan called me out on being all over this guy I’d never met before and sent me a picture of me on the dance floor with my hands on the guy’s chest. I was sad and embarrassed. I had been hoping to hang out with them again but instead completely humiliated myself.]

By the end of Feed Me’s set at Paradiso 2018, I sensed that there were possibly people behind the curtain adjacent to the stage, seeing me dance for over an hour. So, I blew a kiss in that direction before leaving for the campgrounds with a Brazilian meathead asshole that I’d picked up from the DJ Snake dance floor on my way to Feed Me’s set.

I ended up escaping the Brazilian dude, but not before seeing the word “HUBRIS” written in clouds in the car seat behind him as I attempted to escape his grasp. I had thought we were going to after-party. He assumed I was DTF.

I had told him that I needed to change my pants, and he offered to let me change in a vehicle at his camp. He got into the car while I was trying to change clothes and I only had a thong on. He didn’t listen when I said no. I opened the car door to try to leave, then he slammed it shut. This happened several times.

Finally, my instinct tells me to place my hand in the door and that it will be alright even when he slams the door shut again. I do so, and scream when he inevitably closed the door on my hand.

Then, as he looked at my hand, I had enough time to place my leg outside the door so he couldn’t slam it shut again. He tried to hold me by my hair, but I was wearing the red wig, so he didn’t get a hold of me. When he realized I was actually getting away, his whole body deflated.

As I walked away, the eyes of his two Brazilian friends appeared to be glowing red. They had been watching me struggle, waiting for a show through the windshield. I saw the word “HUBRIS” again, this time written in flames in the starry night sky. I got the fuck out and my hand was fine.

Some months later, I noticed that it seemed that deadmau5 had made references to me in his new music video, “Drama Free“. This really drove me nuts. I began to think that we’d had a prior relationship.

Let’s just say, the delusions didn’t end there. Thinking that I knew her as well, I sent his wife Kelly a couple of weird emails (including an eventual apology after I’d snapped out of it), and I sent Joel a fucking sparkly kitty greeting card, of all things. I hope I didn’t creep them out. At least it’s in the past, and I never stalked them. Given how mentally ill I was, it could have been a lot worse. I never had to be hospitalized.

My numerous psychotic delusions relating to deadmau5 culminated in me reporting to the police that he and his wife had been witnesses to me being raped and sex trafficked. Through an attorney, they answered a detective’s questions about this, which I truly appreciate.

After taking antipsychotics, I realized that I did not in fact know Joel, and I was not in fact being raped and sex trafficked but rather, completely delusional. Thank God. My embarrassment is outweighed by my gratitude. I’m so glad the delusions are over and I can enjoy his music again.

I also got real memories back after taking antipsychotics (and processing my emotions), and it turns out that I really did have a past involvement with a heavily tattooed rockstar, but it wasn’t deadmau5 – it was Post Malone, before he got famous. [Posty gets his own post, forthcoming.]

Now, I’m looking forward to going back to the Gorge Amphitheater this weekend to see Joel as part of his Kx5 situation and as Testpilot. AND, I get to see Feed Me play in Seattle again later this month. Woot.